


Never Say Die

by perihadion



Series: Shadowboxing [6]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, can we 99, din is a soft-boiled egg, i don't care if i go to hell i don't care if you go to hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22305835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perihadion/pseuds/perihadion
Summary: Cara tracks down Din and the Child when she gets wind that hunters are on their trail. Somehow she winds up in his room with a bottle of alcohol and things get emotional.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Cara Dune & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Cara Dune/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: Shadowboxing [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1599208
Comments: 51
Kudos: 238





	Never Say Die

**Author's Note:**

> I used a real swear word in this, sorry if that breaks the immersion! I just find it impossible to take _Star Wars_ swear words seriously.
> 
> Do not comment with Omera hate.

The next time Cara saw Din, it was because she had sought him out. Another star, another small planet. She had caught wind that a group of unaffiliated hunters had heard about the Child and were on his tail, so she left Nevarro for the first time in months to find them.

If she were honest with herself she knew that they could handle themselves without her but she was not in the habit of being honest with herself, especially about Din, so she had made her excuses to Greef about getting restless and borrowed one of his ships.

Din turned almost as soon as she caught sight of him and she held up a hand in greeting. “Cara,” he said as she approached him. The Child at his feet looked up at her and cooed.

“Hey,” she said. “Look, I came to give you a heads up.”

He cocked his head. “About the hunters?” he asked. “Taken care of.”

Figures.

“It’s getting close to sundown,” he said, looking at the Child, who was sucking on a corner of his cloak. “We were about to head into the village to find some food and lodging. You coming?” She nodded. It was a long walk in the hazy afternoon sun and they spent most of it in companionable silence as the Child giggled and chased bugs until he asked, “So, why are you really here?”

“I told you,” she said.

“You’re joking,” he said. “I know you weren’t worried that a few Guild rejects would take me out.”

“Yeah, well,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “Maybe I was bored.”

*

Din went to find them lodging, leaving the Child to eat with her over her protests about ‘not being a babysitter’. She eyed the Child with some suspicion as she ate although he had little interest in anything but the plate of meat Din had set down in from of him.

“Carasynthia Dune,” said a deep and familiar voice behind her. “Am I surprised to see you.”

She looked over her shoulder at the man looming over her. He was older — she supposed she was too — but, other than the light seasoning of salt and pepper through his hair and beard, little had changed about him. Her stomach twisted a little at the sight of him. “Baan,” she said. “Long time.”

Although they had not parted on friendly terms, he drew up a seat across from her and next to the Child — who seemed of little interest to him, but peered up at him with some consternation. He smiled at her: maybe bygones could be bygones. She supposed that at this point in their personal history they were bound more tightly by the blood they had shed together than separated by the blood they had tried to draw from each other.

“What brings you here?” she asked.

“Lying low,” he explained. “What about you?” She shrugged, as if to imply ‘the same’ — which, she supposed, was more or less true — and he gestured to the Child. “And who’s this little guy?”

“He’s —”

“He’s mine,” said Din, behind her. The Child cooed and reached for him. Something about this situation made Cara feel a little sick.

“Hey Mando,” she said, turning to Din, who was holding Baan’s gaze. She put her hand on his vambrace, “Baan’s an old war buddy of mine.” Din looked from her hand to her eyes, and then nodded, walking to the Child and picking him up, earning a soft coo as the Child grabbed at his cowl.

“War buddy, huh?” Baan said, with a strange look on his face. She realised that after all this time she could still wound him. “Okay.”

“How would you describe it?” she asked, with a note of irritation.

He feigned thoughtfulness, and she had an idea of what he was about to say. “I guess I wouldn’t,” he said, and nodded at the Child, raising his eyebrows with a grin. “Not in front of a kid.” She set her jaw at the allusion to their sexual history but he breezed past it, adding, “So what’s an ex-shock trooper doing with a Mando and a baby in a place like this?”

“The Child is tired,” Din announced, although the baby (who was still pulling at his cowl) seemed as bright-eyed and ready to make mischief as ever to her. “We have rooms across the way.” He nodded to her. “I will see you tomorrow, Cara.”

She frowned again as he left. Tomorrow?

*

If Cara was being honest with herself — but she was not in the habit of doing that — it was probably not a good idea to knock on Din’s door after the four or five (or six or seven) drinks she had knocked back with Baan after he left. But the truth — if she had been in the habit of telling herself the truth, which she wasn’t — was that she had come here because she wanted to see him. And the idea of flying partway across the galaxy for half a conversation and a “see you later” in the morning was more than she could stand.

He opened the door, looked from her face to the bottle in her hand, and stepped back with a sigh so that she could walk into his room. The only piece of furniture in the room was the bed, which Cara didn’t want to sit on in case Din thought she had come for sex, so she sat cross-legged on the floor instead. He tilted his head and sat down on the bed, facing her. They sat in silence as Cara sipped. The Child’s cradle was sealed, and she surmised that he must be asleep. She wondered what Din had been doing alone for the hours since they parted ways.

At length she said, “It would be nice to be able to have a drink with you once in a while.”

“You’re drinking with me now,” he responded.

“No, I’m drinking _at_ you,” she said, and then tapped her forehead. “I meant it would be nice if you could take this thing off and join me. But,” and she knew she was being sarcastic and maybe a little cruel, but she was annoyed with him and she couldn't help it, “I guess that’s not the Way.”

He didn't respond to that, and she wanted to shake him and ask what his silence meant. It was infuriating to know someone as well as she knew Din and yet, in the moment, be able to get at no part of what he was feeling. She liked to think she had become something of an expert in reading the vagaries of his body language and tone of voice but in this moment he was giving her nothing. She knew that her frustration stood out all over her; even if she wore a mask she couldn't hide it.

After a while he took a deep breath and said, “I have an idea”. She raised her eyebrows as he stood and walked over to her, then around her, and sat down on the floor behind her so that their backs were pressed together. Cara felt her breath leave her body.

“I can trust you, right?” he asked.

“With your life,” she said, a little more candidly than she would have liked.

He hesitated. “What about my soul?”

“Oh, come on,” she scoffed. He didn’t respond, and eventually she said, “Okay, yes, you can trust me.”

She felt the movement of his arms and shoulders, and heard a thunk as he set his helmet down on the floor. “Give me the bottle,” he said.

“Can I look at it?” she asked, as she passed the bottle awkwardly back to him. When he didn’t respond she added, “You know you can’t just nod or shake your head when I can’t see you, right?”

“You can look at it,” he said — his voice recognisable but different at the same time: a little warmer, a little more human — and pushed the helmet over the floor towards her. She picked it up and turned it over in her hands. It was surreal to be holding it like this when she had only ever seen it on his head: so he really was sitting behind her, unmasked, laid bare, just so that they could share a drink — just because she had wanted it.

“Can I put it on?” she asked, almost ready to slip it over her head.

He sighed. “No.”

She lowered it. “Is that against your religion?”

“No, it's just annoying.”

Cara smiled and looked into the visor of the helmet. She wondered what it would be like to look out from behind the visor. While she _had_ been motivated in part by the desire to put it on and do an impression of him there was a deeper part of herself which was curious about the way he experienced the world. She wanted to climb inside him and look out through his eyes. What would she see if she put it on and looked at herself? It didn't bear thinking about.

She put the helmet down and let her head fall back against Din’s. She realised that this was the first time she had touched any part of his body above his neck and rubbed the back of her head against his a little and then tilted her head so she could rub her cheek against him; she thought she heard him sigh, and lean into her touch a little. How could he know that she wouldn’t betray him? — at the least she could hold his helmet hostage and make him look ridiculous as he tried to hide his face, but he put himself on this knife’s edge for her — because he trusted her, because he wanted to give her this moment.

The words bubbled to the surface before she realised what was happening and she found herself saying, “You ran off earlier.”

“The Child was tired,” he replied.

“That’s a lie,” she said, tilting her head forward and breaking contact.

He sighed. “I thought you might like some time to catch up with your friend.”

“He’s not a friend.”

“War buddy, you said.” He placed the bottle on the ground next to them. Cara wished she had brought more to drink, although she was also aware that at this point she had had enough. Her head was swimming a little.

“Yeah, well. I didn’t come here to see him.” A slip of the tongue. The alcohol was making her sloppy.

She could almost feel him look back over his shoulder at her. “Who did you come here to see?”

He was needling her. “That’s not what I meant.”

He said nothing for a long time, until — she supposed — the alcohol hit his bloodstream. Then he said, “I feel like we’re having a fight but I don’t know what it’s about. And ...I'm sorry.” She picked the bottle up, and took a big swig. If he could remove his helmet for her she could take off some of her armour for him too.

She leaned back against him again. “He — we were together for a while,” she said. The alcohol burned her throat. “Things did not end well. Things do not ever end well in my relationships.” She felt Din turn his head to look at her again. She remembered that Baan had asked her about her relationship with Din and she had brushed it off in the same way as her old relationship with Baan, as if it didn’t matter, as if nothing mattered — (“Mando? We’re buds. We fight together sometimes. That’s all.”) She swallowed. She wasn’t going to cry.

“It’s just easier not to get attached,” she said. She felt him reach back, and run his hand clumsily down her arm to find hers and grip it tight. She realised that he had taken his glove off, and the contact with his bare skin made her hand tremble. She swallowed. “So, yeah, no. I didn’t really want to catch up.”

He turned her hand over and laced his fingers between hers so that they were holding hands. She realised too late that she had drunk too much and made herself too vulnerable, and the tears came before she could stop them. Worse, when they did she felt Din unclasp her hand so that he could turn around and put both his arms around her shoulders. He held her tighter than she had been held in years, crushing her against his chest, as she sobbed — as if his grip were the only thing holding her together, as if without him she would disintegrate. She thought maybe she would. She gripped his hands as the thought of the risk he was taking for her in this moment loomed over her like a wave which threatened to overwhelm her.

When he pressed his lips to the back of her neck, it crashed around her. He buried his face in her shoulder, and she felt from the wetness of it that he had also been crying.

“You wimp,” she choked out. “Can’t take a little — emotional conversation like this without crying.” He shook, she thought with laughter, and she said, “Soft”.

“Why do you think I need all that beskar?” was the response, and she choked out a laugh which might have been a sob.

“Close your eyes,” he said, and she did. She took a deep breath as he gently turned her around so that they were facing each other. He brushed her hair away from her face, and then leaned forward and kissed her. It was gentle at first, and then he pulled her into him as she threaded her hands through his hair, and gripped him tight. He pressed open-mouthed kisses to her lips, warm and wet, and all over her face, and then he pulled her in for a hug which knocked all the air out of her body.

"Idiot," she breathed. "What if I'd opened my eyes?" She pressed a kiss to his cheek, and relished the sensation of unshaven skin under her lips, as they rocked together back and forth. "You gonna risk your soul just for that?"

"I don't care," he said, and she knew that in this moment he was telling the truth — that maybe in the last moment, and maybe in the next, it would no longer be the truth, but for now this was all they had, and it was worth it. He buried his face in her neck: "Fuck my soul, I don't care." She held him tight, eyes still closed: I care.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [twitter](http://twitter.com/theoceanblooms) or [tumblr](http://spectroscopes.tumblr.com)! If you really liked this fic, it would be lovely if you could [reblog](https://www.tumblr.com/reblog/190330498214/kl0i61SX) on tumblr.


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